


Birthmarks

by littlewonder



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A Stitch in Time - Andrew Robinson, Foreign Language, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Post-A Stitch in Time - Andrew Robinson, Post-Canon, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 20:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15980216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: Soulmate AU where Julian has Garak’s name tattooed on his arm in Cardassian, and Garak has Julian’s name tattooed on his forearm in English.





	Birthmarks

It had been there ever since he could remember. Although received with a great amount of disdain in the Cardassian community, most little children were born with a birthmark that bared the name of the person they eventually ended up with.

Most little children, though, had the decency to come with a name of a fellow Cardassian who their parents could easily pair them with.

Not Elim Garak. If anyone ever found out about his birthmark, the strange symbols that could only be the name of a foreigner, he’d become an outcast.

Uncle Enabran may have known ― the Cardassian always had an eerie talent for uncovering Garak’s secrets ― but he had other plans for him. He chose to treat Garak like he had no mark, as though he were meant for a life alone, and pushed him into Bamarren, and then into the Order.

“We make our own pathways,” he’d once told Garak. “There is no predestined path to follow; you can only rely on yourself, Elim. Your own wits. Now tell me about that woman we just passed."

Garak lived by that, for years. He’d allowed himself to believe it, even believe that he’d never meet whoever was hiding under his shirt sleeve. He allowed himself to forget love was even possible for him.

And then he was exiled, dashing every ambition Enabran had ever forced on him, and he had forced himself to want. After so many years of adrenaline, survival, and scheming, he finally found himself with nothing to do all day but the monotonous work of tailoring other peoples' clothes.

With nothing better to do with his time, he taught himself the languages of those living aboard the station. Mostly Bajoran languages at first, but when the station fell into the hands of the Federation, there were many new languages to master.

English (called Standard by the Federation) was a major language, though, so Garak made it a priority. Although it was not strictly necessary, given the universal translator given to everybody including himself, he found it quite useful in ingratiating himself to his clients and keep them coming back. He fell into a routine of regularly chatting with those around the station in their own language, rarely using the universal translator except as an aid and an education tool, and then inviting them to his shop. It was how he stayed in business for so long.

He was much more fluent in speaking it than reading it, but eventually he did teach himself the written language as well. It allowed him to read the lists of newcomers, at least.

And then it happened. The name on his arm... was repeated stroke for stroke on his Padd.

_Julian Bashir._

Alone in his quarters, he sounded it out. He checked his arm against the list. It was undoubtedly the same.

What could he do? Could he possibly resist? He thought of Cardassia, of all those little boys and girls who fell so easily in love. Would it be like that for him? How could it be, being who he was?

No. Garak the spy wasn’t who he was anymore. He was just Garak, plain and simple.

Plain, simple Garak. Garak the tailor. That’s who he had to be now. He couldn’t afford to ignore Bashir, not being stuck on the station together as they were.

But could he afford to risk falling in love? He didn’t know what it was like, being in love. Or at least, he didn’t know what being mutually in love felt like. It seemed impossible. But was it?

The next day, he sought Bashir out. One look, that’s all he needed. One look and he would decide.

The moment he saw Bashir across the Replimat that day, he was gone.

He was gorgeous, stunning, and a little shy. He was boyish and charming. He just couldn’t believe that such a man could be right for him. How could someone so seemingly innocent be matched for a hardened spy like him?

No. He wasn’t a spy anymore. He was just Garak. Plain, simple Garak. He could touch him, flirt with him, and that soft human heart would pound for him.

And it did. He watched Bashir blush and fidget, listened to his breath hitch. The words weren’t important, but Garak gave him his usual speech, inviting him to visit his shop. But no conversation before this one had ever been so tense, so heated, so delightful, as this one was.

\--

All his life, he’d had this mark on his forearm. It like a blemish, an imperfection that was left over from his life as Jules. His father, who had changed so much about him, had left this one odd mark. It was more like a tattoo than a birthmark. And it made absolutely no sense.

Whatever it might say, if he really was born with it, it wasn’t in Standard, at least. It was an alien tongue. Which one, it was impossible to say.

He wore his heart on his sleeve, even then. No; especially then. It didn’t take long before he found out how many other little children had them, and that they were called soulmarks. They told you who your soulmate was, and the children had fun imagining meeting their soulmates, and finding out who other peoples’ soulmates were.

“Yours isn’t a human,” said Maria Kendle one day. “You’re going to meet an alien someday. I wonder who she’ll be..."

Maria was the kind of girl who dreamed of a perfect romance, and liked to place herself right in the middle of it. She didn’t have a soulmark, so instead she collected soulmarks; she was the class gossip, always on the search for all those who bared them so she could get ideas for her romantic fantasies.

"So exotic. Why can’t I have a soulmark and go on an adventure?"

“Maybe you still can,” said Julian. "You don’t need a soulmark to have a fulfilling life."

“Yeah, right,” she pouted. “Everyone knows that people with soulmarks are destined to have great romances! What’s left for the rest of us? There’s no point going anywhere if I don’t get swept off my feet."

Julian couldn’t disagree more. Of course there was a side of him that longed for romance, but there was another side that longed for adventures and heroics. And now that he was no longer Jules, maybe he could make for himself that life.

He never gave up on romance. It just wasn’t his primary obstacle at first. He didn’t know what the gibberish on his arm said, but if he had to flirt with every alien in the Federation to find out, he would.

Starfleet was the obvious solution. How else was he going to reach the stars to meet his alien? His assigned role in Starfleet was completely separate; the goal was to just get there.

Yet, it was years in its ranks before he ever found what language it was that was written on his arm, let alone what it said.

\--

Julian walked into the ruined Cardassian hospital sporting his loudest tank and shorts combo. It was hot here, being Cardassia, and he feared he might suffer heat stroke if he wore much more with the dim hot sun at its highest peak over the capital.

As Garak turned, he froze at the sight. He couldn’t call him doctor, not here, so he simply said, “Julian. What are you doing here?"

“It took me awhile to figure it out,” said Julian. “All these years... why did you never tell me?"

Garak, still frozen, simply stared for a moment. “Tell you what?"

Julian flashed his birthmark at him. A few doctors and patients around them stared; most averted their eyes with disdain. “What it said,” replied Julian. “Your name."

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Of course it is!” said Julian. "It's... you, Garak. It’s always been you. This whole time... I’ve been..."

“Chasing girls?"

“Aliens,” Julian corrected him. “I was looking for you. All this time... you should’ve told me."

“This isn’t a polite topic for such a public place,” Garak protested.

“I’ve come all the way here, you could at least hear me out." Julian huffed. “It’s been quite an adventure, I thank you for that. But right now, I don’t want that. Garak, I only want you. Tell me you want me too."

Regaining the use of his limbs, Garak immediately pulled Julian into as remote a corner of the room as he could.

For a moment, he searched for what to say. “These are very delicate matters,” he explained. “In Cardassia, birthmarks like those are not to be waved around. They are private matters, to be kept within the innermost circles of the carriers."

“You mean, they have them on Cardassia? Do you have one of my name?"

Garak stared intensely before giving a stiff nod. “But not here. Tonight, you can see."

“Why have you kept this from me?"

“It may have been your name on my arm, but that did not mean I was willing to drag you into my world completely. Besides, you had plenty of others filling your sights to bother with me."

“Garak, I want to be in your world. I came all the way here to be with you. None of those women mattered as much to me as you do. If you’d just told me how you felt, I'd have dropped them to be with you."

“Perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps you shouldn’t have. You deserve better than me."

“There is no better than you,” said Julian. “I’m sorry I didn’t show you that earlier. I suppose I was scared. Destiny’s a lot to deal with."

“Your human notion of destiny has nothing to do with it. We may have never met had you not searched for me and had I not been exiled. It wasn’t a tattoo on our skin that made us do that, it was our own choices. The only thing these names indicate are where our hearts lie; not where they will end up."

“Then let’s decide to end up together. That’s where we belong,” said Julian.

“My spying days are likely over now. I could do worse,” said Garak.

Julian smiled; Garak smiled back. “Is that a yes?"

“There is nowhere else I'd rather be, my dear."


End file.
